Mat. [with a look expressive of disappointment, but immediately recomposing herself.] Well, then, I must have patience. [Exit Landlady.] Oh Casimere! How often have the thoughts of thee served to amuse these moments of expectation! What a difference, alas! Dinner—it is taken away as soon as over, and we regret it not! It returns again with the return of appetite. The beef of to-morrow will succeed to the mutton of to-day, as the mutton of to-day succeeded to the veal of yesterday. But when once the heart has been occupied by a beloved object, in vain would we attempt to supply the chasm by another. How easily are our desires transferred from dish to dish! Love only, dear, delusive, delightful love, restrains our wandering appetites, and confines them to a particular gratification!...
Post-horn blows.—Re-enter Landlady.
Land. Madam, the post-waggon is come in with only a single gentlewoman.
Mat. Then show her up—and let us have dinner instantly; [Landlady going] and remember—[after a moment's recollection, and with great eagerness]—remember the toasted cheese.
[Exit Landlady.
Cecilia enters, in a brown cloth riding-dress, as if just alighted from the post-waggon.
Mat. Madam, you seem to have had an unpleasant journey, if I may judge from the dust on your riding-habit.
Cec. The way was dusty, madam, but the weather was delightful. It recall'd to me those blissful moments when the rays of desire first vibrated through my soul.
Mat. [aside.] Thank Heaven! I have at last found a heart which is in unison with my own [to Cecilia.] Yes, I understand you—the first pulsation of sentiment—the silver tones upon the yet unsounded harp....